


Sirius Black and the Skateboard

by byebyebluejay



Series: Mischief Managed: Marauding Stories [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Pre-Slash, light language and boyish attitude, mischief and mayhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: Remus is still hiding that he's a werewolf but Sirius is, gradually, getting more suspicious. Luckily, he also has a skateboard to distract himself with. James is jealous, Peter is impressed, and Remus is pretty sure that it's a bit of a deathtrap. During one of Remus's many stays in the hospital wing, Sirius takes it upon himself to prove just how right Remus is.





	Sirius Black and the Skateboard

Sirius came back to Hogwarts from the summer holidays with his younger brother lingering near him every free period, hair down to the bottom of his shoulder blades, and a skateboard. Probably related were the dozens of scrapes and bruises, and the not-new but certainly sharpened gleam in his eyes. Remus watched him cruising around the courtyard, wheels clattering over the bricks with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up over his scabbed elbows. James, who had only succeeded in falling on his arse in his first attempt on the skateboard and had sent it shooting into Peter’s shin on his second go, was sitting next to Remus on one of the benches, looking bitter as he cast an engorgement charm on a beetle. It was too big now to fit in Remus’s hand. Peter, though, was still chasing after Sirius, face pink and perspiring, both laughing in the October sun. 

“Aren’t you sick of riding on that stupid muggle toy?” James called at Sirius, who had just tried to jump up onto the bench beside theirs, and accidentally fallen over it. Remus winced at the sound of the collision—the rasp of Sirius’s shirt against stone, the thud of his knees. But he was still grinning, chin bleeding as he pushed himself up. 

“Arresto momentum!” Sirius shouted at his skateboard as it rolled away across the courtyard. Remus couldn’t help but laugh, even as he cringed at the dribble of red working its way down Sirius’s neck. He was relentless. A tireless force of nature. They’d only just been assigned the spell a few weeks ago, and Sirius didn’t have his wand in hand. They weren’t due to discuss wandless spells for years, and yet there he was. Trying and failing. Or at least, mostly failing. Remus thought he saw the skateboard give a thoughtful little wobble before Peter caught up with it and grabbed it. Wiping his chin with his wrist, Sirius bounced over to stand in front of James. “Sour because you’re no good at it, Jamie?” He asked with a toothy smile.

“No,” James said at once, shoving his hair back from his brow, where it stood up at odd angles. Less windswept and cool, more spikey hedgehog. The shorter haircut didn’t suit him. “Just don’t see the point of it. We’ve got brooms. Why roll around when you can fly?”

“I don’t see how you can ride a broomstick for more than five minutes without getting off to make… you know. Readjustments. I climb on a broom, it’s bollocks to arse horrible. Thanks, Pete,” Sirius added as Peter as ran up, carrying the skateboard, “You sure you don’t want a go at it?”

“Oh, no!” Peter said, “After seeing you and James fall all those times… Not for me!”

“You sure?” Sirius asked, giving the skateboard an inviting little wiggle, “It’s really fun.”

“No thanks, Sirius.”

“Jamie? Want to give it another go?”

“Nah. I don’t fancy breaking my nose.”

“Remus? I know you’re studying, but do you want to take a break and give it a try? Promise I’ll catch you.” Sirius grinned, and Remus looked down at the book in his lap. He hadn’t taken a glance down at the passage on disarming charms he had been trying to work through for at least the last ten minutes. He’d forgotten all about it watching Sirius. 

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Remus mused, considering the board with its four little wheels, marks from Sirius’s shoes already scraped into the sandpapery finish of the top, “It seems to require a lot of grace and poise.”

“Grace and poise,” James snorted, “It’s not the ballet.”

“Au contraire,” Sirius said, “It is a dance. Rider and board, board and earth.” 

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t dance with both my feet on the ground. I don’t think dancing on that thing will work out well for me.”

“Hippogriff shite.”

“Well, look how it’s turned out for you,” Remus pointed out, gesturing at Sirius’s bleeding chin, “And you’re our resident expert.” James laughed. Peter, eyes lingering on the blood, frowned. 

“Do you think you should go to the hospital wing, Sirius?”

“Nah,” Sirius said, shrugging, “I’m fine. It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all. What do you say, Rem?” For a moment, Remus entertained the thought. He considered what it would be like; climbing up on that board and balancing on it, with Sirius standing close. Very close. Close, and looking up at him and smiling with shared enthusiasm and sweetness, and— No. He couldn’t think that. Couldn’t let himself want that.

“Not right now. Maybe later.” For a moment Sirius looked so crushed that Remus considered going back on it immediately, or at least apologizing, but the expression was gone almost as soon as it had registered. 

“Alright, then. When I modify it so it flies, you’re all going to be stroppy because you don’t know how to ride it.”

“You’re going to bewitch it to fly?” That idea had apparently won James’s interest, pulling his eyes away from the swollen beetle to examine the board dubiously, “There’s nothing to hold onto or anything. You won’t be able to do any tricks on it without falling off.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Sirius said serenely, shaking back his hair, “Don’t doubt my creativity, James.” James scoffed but had no comeback. 

After a few weeks, Remus forgot about Sirius’s plan to make the skateboard fly. He had other things to worry about. The full moon was coming around again, so he had to plan the excuses he would give this time, and there was the usual load of homework. Anyway, if the state of Sirius’s trousers and elbows was anything to go by, he wasn’t riding the skateboard so much anymore. The morning of the full moon, he began complaining of a headache, and Peter pouted at him over his glass of pumpkin juice. 

“Oh no. Not again. Gobstones is tonight and everything.” That was the one good thing about the timing of this moon, Remus thought, he wouldn’t have to go with Peter to the meeting of the Gobstones Team. He didn’t mind playing a game or two and just scourgifying his jumpers afterwards, but the weekly obligation was a little much. He went for Peter’s sake, but Remus was starting to get tired of the commitment. James had apparently cottoned on to Remus’s waning interest, even if Peter hadn’t, and winked at Remus over his cup of tea.

“Really, James,” Remus said, picking at his toast, “My head is bothering me.”

“Oh, come on, Rem,” James said, still smirking, “Wasn’t that your excuse last month too?”

Remus sighed, running his fingers back through his hair and hoping he looked as exhausted as he felt, “It’s not like I’m asking for this or anything. I’m just… sickly, I guess.” Sirius frowned. 

“You do look sort of pale. Sure you don’t want to eat more? The bacon’s really nice. Or there’s always the hospital wing. Quick headache potion, and—”

“We have class in five minutes,” Remus said, shaking his head, “Never mind. I’ll be fine.” But despite his protests, Sirius insisted on levitating his bag and hauling it along behind him like some bizarre balloon, James stole his pen, and Peter promised him a set of meticulously copied notes. 

“Really, you don’t have to,” Remus said for what felt like the thirtieth time as James and Sirius put their heads together that afternoon in potions, ignoring Slughorn’s instructions that they turn to page 36 in _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and brew a swelling solution, and instead beginning to mix together a concoction of rat tails and doxy eggs that James swore was his mother’s headache cure potion, or at least something that smelled like it. Remus knew better than to try it, and his caution was rewarded when, in an effort to prove it was safe for consumption, James downed a ladleful, and promptly sprouted a thick, glossy bushel of hair from either nostril. Sirius accompanied to the hospital wing, howling with laughter. It would have been funny, but he could feel the full moon burning hot and close in his bones, and humor was starting to escape him. Remus went back to the dorm before dinner to lay down, and was just preparing himself to go to the hospital wing when he heard James, Peter, and Sirius coming up the stairs, talking. 

“Madam Pomfrey nearly pissed herself laughing,” Sirius said as he let himself into the dorm, a sausage roll in either hand, “Took her nearly an hour to find a potion that would singe the stuff away. Kept growing back. Your nose hair is just as untamable as that mop on your head, Jammy.” Peter laughed, but James, whose nose looked rather sunburned, looked less amused. 

“You must have messed it up somehow, Sirius. I swear, it should have worked, Remus.”

“Don’t blame me,” Sirius said with a little shrug, “I was only following instructions.”

“Who are you to talk about mop-hair anyway? Look at yours.” 

“Mmm. Don’t mind if I do,” Sirius said, flashing Remus a grin as he sidled over to the mirror to preen himself. Peter’s eyes had landed on Remus’s shoes, though, and he reached out to prod James, who eyed Remus up and down. 

“Where are you going?” Sirius turned at once to search Remus’s face, and Remus, feeling his stomach start to seize up, took a step backwards. 

“Hospital wing.”

“Feeling worse?” Sirius asked, holding out the sausage rolls in Remus’s direction, “I have food if you want.”

“No. I’m not hungry,” Remus said, grabbing his cloak from the foot of his bed and slinging it over his shoulders, “I’m feeling really ill.”

“Why are you taking your cloak?” Peter asked, brow knit, “It’s not cold in the castle.”

“I’m freezing,” Remus said, annoyed that he had delayed so long in bed, wishing he didn’t have to lie to his friends to avoid losing them, “I’ll see you all later.” Sirius was two steps behind him, at the top of the stairs as Remus started down.

“I’ll walk you, Rem. You look pale. Don’t want you to collapse or anything.”

“Stay here,” Remus snapped, more sharply than he meant to, and Sirius’s footsteps silenced behind him, “Please.” He added, glancing back over his shoulder. He only saw half of Sirius’s face around the curve of the spiral stair, his clever gray eyes narrowed. Was that suspicion, or concern? Remus wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t waste time thinking about it now. Bones throbbing with every footfall, Remus took the stairs down from Gryffindor tower to the hospital wing two at a time, only grateful that Sirius hadn’t followed him.

It was a brutal moon. They always were. A month seemed like just the right amount of time to forget the pain of having his body torn apart and reformed twice in a night, and to blur the memory of exactly how desperate and lonely the wolf was, without giving him enough time to feel free from worry over the next full moon. Worn out and aching, legs stinging with the ointment Madam Pomfrey had smeared on his self-inflicted bite wounds, Remus lay beneath the sheets of his familiar corner cot, eyes shut against the piercing pink of the morning light. Somewhere above there were footsteps. Students moving into the Great Hall for breakfast. Listening, he tried to make his mind go blank. If he could only concentrate on the sounds of life inside the castle, and the wind moving through the trees outside—just distract himself from the searing of his cuts and the gnawing in his bone marrow—maybe he could ease through the rest of the day. Sometimes, when he was very lucky, he even managed to sleep a little. 

Down the hall, he could hear a pair of girls talking about Ancient Runes. Madam Pomfrey was writing something in her office, quill scratching on a sheaf of parchment. Focusing hard, Remus listened for the sound of birds in the trees outside: owls returning to the owlery after delivering the morning mail or songbirds making merry in the sunshine. Even with his senses sharpened by the change, though, Remus couldn’t hear any birds, in part because of the chatter that was growing louder outside the window. It was impossible not to recognize the voices of James, Sirius and Peter.

“—dumbest idea you’ve ever had. If you want to visit him in the hospital wing, you should just borrow my cloak. Or let me hex you. Or knock on the bloody window.” 

“That’s boring. Remus will get a laugh out of this. Anyway, you’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first. This is going to replace broomsticks in ten years. You’ll see.” 

“Bollocks.”

“How much practice have you had?” Peter asked.

“Well, I practiced loads at the beginning of the year.” Sirius answered. Remus heard James laugh.

“Wait, you haven’t tried it out at all since your mods?”

“Once or twice.”

“And?”

“This will be different,” Sirius said, a touch of defensiveness coloring his voice. 

“How can you be sure?” Peter asked. 

There was a smile in Sirius’s voice when he answered, “Sticking charm.” What in the world could Sirius have planned that even James, daring as he was, thought was a bad idea? Sweet, that Sirius wanted to visit him. The thought warmed him up like a mug of butterbeer. But if he had even an ounce more confidence that he could stand and walk without falling, Remus would have gone to stop him. His wand was just out of reach on the bedside table. If he could just reach it, maybe he could shatter the window, magnify his voice, and tell Sirius not to be an idiot. 

Remus was gritting his teeth to do just that when a bang like a car backfiring rattled the windowpane. Remus recoiled in pain, hands clamped to his ears as a shower of red sparks lit up the air outside. Madam Pomfrey cursed and shattered something in her office, but Remus could barely hear her over the yells from outside. Peter shrieked, James was out-cursing Madam Pomfrey at the top of his lungs, and Sirius was whooping in victory. Remus, still holding his hands to his ringing ears, pulled himself up right. In spite of his condition, he wanted to find out what was going on. 

He saw a split second of it. Sirius, standing on his skateboard, tie secured like a headband, zoomed past the window, red and white stars streaming out behind him. Flying. He was flying. But that was probably due less to Sirius coming up with some clever enchantment for the skateboard than it was the two broomsticks Sirius had strapped to its underside, and the half dozen Filibuster's Fireworks Spello-taped to its back. “Hey Rem! Feeling any better?” Sirius shouted, and Remus did laugh despite himself. Ridiculous. Sirius Black was utterly ridiculous. Then Sirius was out of sight again, though Remus could still catch a glimpse of the fireworks. 

Madam Pomfrey, siphoning ink from her dress as she went, ran from her office to look out the window, mouth opening in dismay. “Boys!” She said and, wordlessly vanished the glass in the window before leaning out of it, “Black! Come down from there. Arresto momentum! Merlin, no. Arresto momentum! Potter, could you please—Arresto momentum! Oh no, poor, foolish boy.” Remus was leaning so far out of bed to see what was happening that he was nearly falling out of it, bust his efforts were rewarded. 

There was Sirius, still airborne, still rocketing around at an alarming speed, spewing sparks behind him, but the board had flipped upside-down and Sirius was stuck onto it by the soles of his feet. James, tailed a few yards back by Peter, were both in pursuit, but the skateboard easily outstripped them. Madam Pomfrey’s charms were faster, but the skateboard was lurching around erratically, and Sirius was doing nothing to help matters one way or the other. He looked gray, a grimace of pain on his face, lips shaping spells—but he didn’t have a wand. It was James who finally got a shot in. As the skateboard turned, sending Sirius helplessly careening back towards James and Peter, James raised he wand and shouted, “Relashio!” 

A bolt of lilac light shot from the end of his wand and hit the board. And, as easy as that, the sticking charm was broken. Sirius fell a few yards, twisting in midair with uncanny grace, and landing a little too lightly not to be magical on his hands and knees as the skateboard shot away across the grounds, over the lake, disappearing out of sight within a few seconds. Given the feral noise of pain Sirius was making, though, he hadn’t gotten off scot-free. Stomach roiling with worry, Remus pushed himself out of bed. A feeling like nails ripping through flesh shot up his legs, and he crumpled to the floor, breathless. “Not you too, Lupin,” Madam Pomfrey said, levitating him back into bed with a deft flick of her wand, “You can’t help him. You’ll only hurt yourself. I’ll be able to fix him up, don’t you worry. Helga help me. They get worse every year… Where’s Minerva?” Remus lay back, worried he might be sick if he tried to open his mouth. Madam Pomfrey raised her wand again, and Remus watched, amazed, as a small bird formed of gleaming silver mist burst from it, zooming out of the hospital wing. “You rest,” She shot over her shoulder at him, before summoning a stool from across the room and climbing nimbly out the window. Even in bed, Remus could hear the clamor. 

“I told you it was a mad idea.” 

“Bloody hell, shut up, I’m dying.”

"Are you bleeding? Tell me you're not bleeding."

"I said dying not bleeding, Pete, dung for brains."

“You’re not dying,” Madam Pomfrey said briskly, “Let me see. Where does it hurt? Mmm. Broken ankle. I thought so. You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head open. I can fix this straight away, but I want you to lay down afterwards and have a calming potion. Just relax, now. Ossio sanare.” There was a faint crackle, then Sirius groaned in relief.

“Are you alright, Sirius? Are you better?” Peter sounded on the edge of panic. Out of nowhere, a sudden cruel thought rose in Remus’s mind. He didn’t want Peter to come in and get a calming potion too. Why, though, if he was anxious? There was nothing wrong with that. Because he was there, Remus decided. It was his responsibility to make sure Sirius didn’t hurt himself. He wouldn’t want James to get a calming potion either. Sirius had been punished enough by the pain. He deserved to be coddled and looked after now.

“Merlin. You’re fantastic Madam Pomfrey. Thank you. I’m fine, Pete, don’t look so green.” 

“Come on, now. An hour of rest. You two—off you go. You should be in class.” 

“But we—”

“I’ve already called Professor McGonagall,” Madam Pomfrey said, and that seemed to do the trick. Making quick apologies, Remus listened as Peter and James cut a hasty retreat. A minute later, Madam Pomfrey, escorting Sirius by the shoulder, entered in through the hospital door, casting a concerned glance at Remus as she began marching Sirius towards a far bed. Remus opened his mouth. Sirius beat him to it. 

“Madam Pomfrey, can’t I rest next to Remus?”

“He needs sleep, Black. I know you won’t help with that.”

“Please, Madam Pomfrey,” Remus cut in, “He’ll make me feel better. Distract me.” Madam Pomfrey cast a glance between them before nodding, walking Sirius to the bed closest to his. Sirius jumped up into it like an excitable dog, looking none the worse for his wild skateboard ride, except for the grass stains on his trousers and the drunken tilt of his tie around his head. He yielded just enough to Madam Pomfrey’s tutting and scolding to lay down and accept a calming potion, and, before she had left his bedside, Professor McGonagall had swept into the hospital wing. 

“Thank you calling me, Poppy,” She said as she moved to the foot of Sirius’s bed, jaw set in a hard line, “I don’t know why it is that every time something goes wrong in my house, it is always you or Potter at the bottom of it, Black. You’re only in second year. This is the time to be making good impressions, not constructing some sort of a bad reputation to uphold.” Remus snuck a glance over at Sirius. He was putting on a good show, gaze downcast, slowly undoing his tie headband, but something about the way Sirius’s eyes were glinting under his long eyelashes told Remus that Sirius didn’t feel particularly guilty, “And now Madam Pomfrey tells me that you’re skipping class to zoom around causing havoc outside the hospital wing, endangering yourself and others and disturbing Lupin. I would have hoped that you cared more for your friends than that.” 

That broke Sirius’s act. Remus was sure that, had it not been for the calming potion, Sirius might have stood up or said something hash. As it was, he only looked up at Professor McGonagall, a fierce light in his eyes. “I wasn’t disturbing Remus—wasn’t trying to disturb Remus, anyway. He’s sick, Professor. He’s always sick and hurting, his mother’s sick, month after month it’s always rubbish news. And it upsets him, and I thought—” Sirius wet his lips and looked over, and their eyes met. He looked, for a minute, actually sheepish, “—I could cheer him up a bit. I made sort of a prat of myself. But Madam Pomfrey doesn’t let him have visitors when he’s in here. So I had to be creative.”

Professor McGonagall was silent for a long moment. Sizing Sirius up, Remus thought. Finally, she sighed. “It’s admirable that you care so much for Lupin, Black, but in the future, see that you express that care in a way that doesn’t risk hurting yourself and other people. Maybe a card or a fruit basket, or you could attend class and take notes for him. Five points from Gryffindor, and a detention with me, this Saturday, nine in the morning, sharp,” And then, voice softer, she added, “Feel better soon, Lupin.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Remus said, and Professor McGonagall smiled at him before leaving.

“Could have been worse,” Sirius said once Madam Pomfrey had retreated to her office, “Only five points. And detention with McGonagall can’t be bad. What can she have me do? Copy lines? Collect beetles?” Remus shrugged minutely, and Sirius frowned, “Did it bother you? I mean, if it had gone well, would you have liked it?” 

“It made me laugh,” Remus said, feeling himself warm when Sirius’s concern burst into a grin instead, “But it was a little loud.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Sirius said, folding his hands over his belly. Remus raised an eyebrow. 

“Next time?”

“You’re always getting yourself into trouble, Rem. Pretty much every month, on the nose,” Sirius answered, “I figure, like it or not, there’ll be a next time.” He was right, though Remus couldn’t tell him just how right he was. 

“You never know,” He said when the silence dragged on a second too long, “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, anyway.” 

“No problem,” Sirius said, “I’m just sorry I didn’t do a better job.”

“Well, at least now I have company,” Remus pointed out, and Sirius laughed. 

“If that’s all you want, next time I’ll just let James hex me.”


End file.
